


Human Attraction

by Nonesane



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Book/TV Series Mashup, Flirting, Footnotes, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:56:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonesane/pseuds/Nonesane
Summary: In this story, we encounter Crowley and Aziraphale having dinner at a pub and we contemplate the complexities of the concept of attractiveness. Also, Aziraphale embraces his inner bastard, just a little bit.





	Human Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> Two things inspired this story: 1) Me being amused at the thought of the situation at the start of this fic, and 2) The widespread book fanon that Crowley looks younger than Aziraphale. This is obviously not the case in the TV show version and it’s actually never really stated outright in the book, though I too have been thinking of it as “canon” since I first read the book way back when. So I thought I’d throw in a possible explanation for my own confusion in this here fic. Because why not :)

"Oh, do stop, my dear."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're being seductive."  
  
"I most certainly _am not_," Crowley said in a most indignant tone of voice. [1]  
  
Aziraphale did not roll his eyes at this protest, but he did give his dinner companion a meaningful look. "You mean to say that the man over there," a wave of his hand indicated a person two booths over from them, "has been staring at you on and off for the past hour all on his own accord?"  
  
The expression Crowley pulled at this comment landed somewhere in-between offended and amused. "Are you saying I need to _make an effort_ for humans to look at me?" The smirk crawling its way up the corner of Crowley's mouth had a decidedly serpentine air about it. Then again, so did the rest of him.  
  
"No," Aziraphale backtracked, avoiding the ethereal double entendre with the practice of an old cat dodging traffic, "but you're...you're doing that thing you do."  
  
"I have a thing I do?"  
  
"Yes. You sort of lean back and have your arm up on the back of the booth and pretend you don't know people are looking at you."  
  
"And that's seductive, is it?"  
  
Aziraphale didn't dignify this with an answer. Instead he said, "Did you get those tickets you wanted?"  
  
"Mmmhmm." Crowley allowed the abrupt topic change to bask in the pleasure of a job well done. He was still in the get-up he'd conjured for the task; eyeliner and leather and younger face. He'd been too chuffed about the success of his plan to bother with changing back to his normal look yet.  
  
Well, his current normal anyways.  
  
When Crowley had been given his body, back when Time had just become a thing, he'd been given one with a fairly young look to it. Youth not being a bad or good thing in human society back then, seeing as human society had been all of two people, there had been no thought behind it, just a "here, take this, make trouble". Then he'd met Aziraphale and from the very start it had felt better to shift to match the angel's apparent age, seeing as they'd existed for the same amount of Time. It had become a habit. Crowley's appearance was a 6000 years long work in progress, and that didn't only include the clothes.  
  
This said, youth was 'in' this century and being 'in' opened doors for you. Among other things, it helped you blend in with certain groups to get your hands on previously sold out tickets. Why not use any and all advantages you had?  
  
Crowley could of course have gotten said tickets with a snap of his fingers, but sometimes it was more fun to do actual legwork. Now, he had his tickets and he had this very entertaining situation to poke and prod at until it either fizzled out or turned into something _interesting_.  
  
Aziraphale kept sneaking not so subtle glances at the man two booths over. Crowley kept trying not to grin.  
  
"Why don't we bet on it?" Crowley said after they'd finally gotten their desserts. The pub they'd ended up in didn't usually serve desserts, or food other than peanuts, but it did this evening. "About our curious onlooker," he added, for clarification.  
  
There was a handful of hesitant seconds before Aziraphale said, "I don't gamble."  
  
Ignoring this obvious lie, Crowley said, "Why don't you make it seem like you've popped off to the loo and what happens next will settle our wager."  
  
"Crowley-"  
  
"If that bloke hasn't wandered over here in, oh, say ten minutes, I've won and you'll have to go watch the new Bond film with me." Aziraphale had as of yet not gotten the hang of cinema, which Crowley couldn't wrap his head around. To him film was the same as a play, only people botched their lines less often. And Aziraphale was always willing to attend any new play thought up by humans. [2] "If he does wander over, you win."  
  
"In this utterly hypothetical scenario, what would be my prize?"  
  
Crowley pretended to think this over for a minute. "How about, if you win, I go with you to that re-enactment thingie you've been on about." He did his very best not to visibly react to the light of keen interest this sparked in Aziraphale's eyes.  
  
"Would you really?"  
  
"Sure," Crowley said, faking nonchalance and almost achieving it. Since the whole business with the Antichrist, it had gotten harder and harder to pretend that he couldn't care less what Aziraphale suggested the two of them do together. He'd never been very good at it to start with and retirement hadn't helped matters.  
  
He watched Aziraphale closely, both because he enjoyed watching him and because he wasn't sure if the angel would take him up on the bet or not.  
  
Said angel seemed to have a silent conversation with himself for a good long while, before sighing and saying, "Oh, very well." He scowled at the grin that split Crowley's face. "Don't look so smug. Come Saturday you'll be dancing the gavotte!"  
  
As threats go that had about as much menace behind it as 'No, I'll see _you_ at the park and I'm bringing a picnic blanket!' [3] but Crowley nonetheless managed to rally a, "We'll see about that, angel!" before Aziraphale faded out of visual existence. He was still there. Crowley could sense him if not see him, but to everyone else it had looked as if he'd gotten up and headed towards the gents.  
  
The man two booths over had the decency to wait all of three seconds before he got up and sauntered over. Crowley, his back to the man, decided not to cheat too much and thus didn't read the man's thoughts. He waited as patiently as he could - and he could be uncharacteristically patient, for a demon - as the man took the seat Aziraphale ostensibly had left unoccupied, bold as you please.  
  
"Hello," the man said, all flirtation. He got a flat "Hi," in answer from Crowley, who'd schooled his face into an expression of mild disinterest.  
  
"How about you ditch that old queen and we two go have some fun?"  
  
The sunglasses Crowley wore hid the utter delight shining in his yellow eyes. He answered without hesitation, "And what would be your definition of fun?"  
  
Here it is good to note that Crowley and human sexuality had a long and sordid history. This is not to say that Crowley had _partaken_ in the practical side of said sexuality too often, but he had studied it closely. [4] When it came to sex and attraction humans were, as in all things, bloody fucking complicated. No matter what information mass media bombarded people with there existed no such thing as a universally attractive person. No matter how symmetrical your features, no matter how fashionable your wardrobe, no matter your gender presentation, there would be a great number of people who saw you and just went "Eh" with a bit of a shrug.  
  
Because of this, shapeshifting only got you so far. There were some cheat codes, one being walking and talking like you knew you were hot shit, [5] but the rest was always a gamble.  
  
For many reasons, Crowley had practised the body language of confidence until it came easier than breathing. When he bothered to combine this with some extra effort (and no, not _that_ kind, though fairly similar) he without fail seemed to attract at least one…insistent…human. It could be amusing or annoying, or both. But all in all it was good for, ehm, _research_. [6]  
  
"My idea of fun," said the man no longer two booths over, "is you, me, a bed, and no clothes."  
  
Crowley managed to keep his indifferent expression but it was a struggle. This bloke was just too much. At least there hadn't been any cheesy chat up lines. Yet.  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
The man leaned over the table, oozing confidence. "It is. Grab your coat."  
  
If this had been any other outing, that line would have triggered Crowley's usual response of "Bored now, get lost." This time, however, he had an audience. An invisible one, yes, but sight wasn't the only way to note company. Besides touch and hearing and all those neat human senses, demons and angels had a few additional ones, and right now Crowley could feel _emotions_ radiating off Aziraphale.  
  
Angels and demons couldn't read each other's minds without invitation or force, but when one felt something strongly enough it was hard to hide it. That is to say, other angels and/or demons would know you were feeling _something_ very strongly. Usually this worked against Crowley when in Aziraphale's company, but for once it had ended up a source of thrilling entertainment. Was Aziraphale stifling laughter? Utterly bewildered? Bored to tears? Or…  
  
Best not to go there. Not yet. [7]  
  
Letting his feigned indifference slip over into feigned shyness, Crowley turned his eyes away from the man and over to the left of him where he knew Aziraphale to be seated. "You're very blunt…"  
  
"Josh," said the man, looking far too pleased with himself. Crowley allowed himself a brief smile, which the git across from him likely would take as flirtatious. Men like that tended to take anything except a slap in the face as flirtation. Hell, sometimes they thought a slap meant 'try again'.  
  
"Well, Josh," Crowley said, making sure to keep a hint of a smile as he spoke, but not letting it develop into an obvious smirk. When you couldn't work with eye contact, you learned to work with what you had. "I'm afraid I-"  
  
"Ah, I see you've found us company for the night, my dear."  
  
If Crowley had been less in control of his shapeshifting, his jaw would have literally hit the floor. It was Aziraphale who'd spoken. Aziraphale, who stood right next to the table, slightly behind Josh, as if he'd actually left and come back.  
  
"Excuse me?" Josh squeaked, staring up at Aziraphale like Crowley once had seen a handful of shepherds look up at Gabriel.[8]  
  
"Am I mistaken?" Aziraphale did a little head tilt and added on that polite expression he usually only threatened customers with. "You are, after all, sitting in our booth and being very," a heavy pause, "forward."  
  
Crowley tried to re-enter the conversation here but could only form vague sounds of confusion. Josh wasn't doing much better, though the noises he made leaned more towards guilt.  
  
"Young man, may I have my seat back?"  
  
Josh leapt to his feet, jostling the table with his hip. "Yeah, sure, sorry, sure." He edged around Aziraphale with the care you'd put into walking around a venomous snake. Ironically this put his back to Crowley.  
  
"Thank you," Aziraphale said, sitting down with an air of smugness that had Crowley caught between delighted, impressed, and baffled. "Run along now."  
  
Josh didn't run out of the pub, but he definitely marched. Crowley paid him no mind, too wrapped up in trying to regain the ability to speak.  
  
Aziraphale didn't watch Josh leave either. Instead, he took up the menu (a thing that hadn't existed in this pub before Crowley and Aziraphale walked in) and began perusing it.  
  
Crowley took a deep breath.  
  
"_Angel!_" The word had ambition to both be a shout and a whisper, which landed it in the territory of regular conversational tone.  
  
"What?" Aziraphale answered, all casual nonchalance. It would have been a good act if the tips of his ears hadn't been turning red.  
  
Angels did in general not blush. Like most bodily functions, blushing was optional to any ethereal (or occult) being inhabiting a mortal form. However, when you've inhabited a human-ish body for over 6000 years, some things become second nature whether you want them to or not.  
  
"Did you," Crowley began, but immediately interrupted himself with a bark of laughter. "Did you just-"  
  
The red of Aziraphale's ears rushed down to paint his cheeks as well. "There's really no need for you to act so surprised. I used to be a member of the Hundred Guineas Club you know."  
  
"To take dance classes!"  
  
Aziraphale looked up from the menu, blushing but gleeful. "Really, now, do you think I went in there blindfolded and covering my ears? I assure you, the club you accompanied me to was far more subdued than was common for such places. The 'discreet' part was more intended for life outside of the club."  
  
Crowley knew he was grinning like an idiot and he couldn't have cared less. In his opinion, this situation couldn't have resolved itself in a better manner. "My, my, angel. You're just full of surprises."  
  
Aziraphale beamed. "I do try to be. 'Surprises help you remain interesting'."  
  
The way he'd said it, and especially the way his blushing took itself to the next level after he’d spoken, made Crowley suspicious. "Are you quoting a book at me?"  
  
Aziraphale clumsily hid behind the menu. "No, absolutely not."  
  
"Because if I didn't know better, I'd think you were recalling some sort of list item."  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about." [9]  
  
Crowley found his way back to his favourite (and apparently seductive) way of sitting in a booth and gave himself a moment to think. He could push here. Of course he could. He was still a demon, retired or not, and pushing people was his thing. But this was Aziraphale.  
  
"What will the dress code for this weekend be?" he chose to ask.  
  
"Pardon?" Aziraphale lowered the menu and the red in his cheeks lessened ever so slightly.  
  
Crowley made a vague hand gesture to encompass their situation. "For your grand prize."  
  
"Oh!" Aziraphale's blush made the subtle shift from embarrassed to delighted. "It does seem you lost our wager."  
  
"It seems so indeed." Crowley utterly failed to sound displeased with this state of affairs. He was already too lost in enjoying the excitement and anticipation Aziraphale had begun emanating to bother keeping up any appearances. While Crowley couldn't read the other's thoughts there was no doubt of the giddy anticipation that was overtaking Aziraphale. Crowley took it all in, wearing an expression he'd forever deny could be called 'soft' but definitely was.  
  
"This will be so lovely! I think I still have some clothes at the shop that will suit us," Aziraphale said and got up from his seat. The menu vanished as he placed it on the table. "Why don't we go there next? Have a drink and discuss costuming?"  
  
"Yeah," Crowley said, following suit. "That sounds alright."  
  
They left the establishment free to go back to being a pub that served alcohol and the occasional bowl of peanuts. All of the pub's other patrons continued their own conversations without taking note of the pair or the change. Only the pub's owner stood around for a moment, brought up short by the absurd feeling that he'd gotten to live out his top chef dreams and then forgotten all about it. Despite the vagueness of this, the pub owner went about the rest of his day with a spring in his steps.  
  
If Crowley thought _Peasant kissing dance, here I come!_ as he and Aziraphale exited the pub, only he knew. Maybe, just maybe, that "not yet" was edging closer towards "now".[10]  
  


** **** **

* * *

[1]Crowley had rarely been in the habit of tempting humans in the way Aziraphale here implied. He hadn't really needed to. Humans seemed to take that kind of interest in him all on their own no matter how he presented himself, much to his annoyance.  
  
[2]Some angels and demons had across the years tried to influence humanity through popular culture. They mostly failed.  
  
[3]That is to say, it made Crowley's heart race not out of fear but out of another sort of emotion that he'd rather not acknowledge, at least not yet, thank you very much. When "not yet" would turn into "okay, fine, now" was anyone's guess and a source of frustration foremost to Crowley himself.  
  
[4]If anyone had known this and asked him why he'd been so interested, Crowley would have answered with a short speech about "work related research". He would have answered much too fast, barely gotten the words out, and then tripped over something, so it was a good thing no one had ever asked.  
  
[5]With emphasize on _knew. Thinking_ you're hot shit will inspire more Wrath than Lust, every time.  
  
[6]Again, if Crowley had been asked why he was researching different ways of appearing attractive he would have answered that it was Clearly All Work Related and No One Needed To Think Too Deeply On That, Alright?! That this current opportunity for research had happened to occur when he was out with Aziraphale, and when they finally had formed their own official side outside of Heaven and Hell, that was completely and fully a happy coincidence. Definitely. Obviously. And yes, Crowley was having a hard time remembering to breathe.  
  
[7]As pointed out earlier, Crowley had gotten into a bad habit with the whole "not yet" strategy. The approach of waiting and gently nudging had, in his opinion, served him well thus far. He had convinced himself of this because he had no wish to risk re-experiencing a certain conversation that had contained the words "you" "too" and "fast" in the most disheartening of combinations.  
  
[8]This had been the practice run before the birth of a very famous man named Jesus. Heaven wasn't usually much for dress rehearsals, or rehearsals at all, but this once it had been judged necessary. Couldn't be too careful with vital steps on the path towards Armageddon after all. Crowley had almost blown his cover (the black sheep of the shepherds' flock) laughing when Gabriel showed up in some weird combination of multiple wings, spinning wheels and roaring lion heads. It had been worth all the work of spreading rumours about angels' supposedly "true forms".  
  
[9]While Crowley had been focusing on practical research in the field of attraction, Aziraphale had taken a more theoretical approach. That is to say, he'd read a number of books on the subject and, once the world hadn't ended, a number of relationship advice magazines. Yes, the kind that had lists titled "Five Ways To Keep The Flame Of Love Alive" and "The Ten Best Date Tips". After Aziraphale had read said magazines he'd carefully forgotten them one by one in his manicurist's waiting room, leaving them to find a new home among their brethren there.  
  
[10]It was. But that is, as they say, another story.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to clarify, Footnote 8 is **not** meant to be a dig at all the wonderful fic and art out there that explore possible true forms of angels and demons! I adore that stuff <3 This idea just appeared while I was writing and I couldn’t help but add it in :)


End file.
